Control and Compassion: A Risqué Regency Romance (The Gypsy Gentlemen Book 2)

by Sahara Kelly

  Slowly…very slowly…each man washed her with loving hands.

  And Priscilla sighed with pleasure.

  *~~*~~*

  She was floating. The feeling of weightlessness was strange, hypnotic almost to someone who wasn’t used to the sensation.

  The water supported her along with the two men who were lavishing attentions on her body, and Priscilla surrendered to the delight of the moment. It was terribly wrong, of course, but who cared?

  She was tired. Tired of being at the beck and call of children with few graces and no manners. Tired of never quite fitting into any of the families she lived with. Of being in some odd place between servant and guest, neither fish nor fowl nor good fair game, as her father would have said.

  Good heavens above, what would he have thought if he could see her now? A country parson’s daughter, languishing naked in a stream being caressed by two of the most handsome men she could remember seeing in a long while.

  Luk’s hands began to wash her breasts, and her memories faded. Mat’s hands stroked up her thighs and she stopped thinking about anything at all.

  She could only feel.

  The luxurious slide of the soap over her skin, the warmth of their hands as they smoothed and swirled the foamy suds over all kinds of lovely places…like that one right there…

  It was incredibly arousing, and to her surprise Priscilla found a heat building inside her she’d long thought dead. Her buttocks tightened as Mat began to wash her mound, and her nipples hardened to taut peaks beneath Luk’s fingers.

  “Oh…oh…” She couldn’t stop the moan of delight.

  Her hair swirled free in the water, rinsed of the grime and dirt that had turned it lank and smelly. Her skin glowed as the sweat was rinsed away, and she felt her spirit being cleansed as much as her body.

  Then…oh yes…then lips replaced hands.

  With eyes closed and cooling water lapping at her curves, Priscilla gave herself up to the knowing mouths and tongues of her two saviors.

  Luk suckled her, gently ringing her nipple at first, then tugging on it, little teasing pulls that sent bolts of fire through her and down to her clit.

  Where Mat answered their call with a skill all his own.

  His head was tucked low, almost in the water, but she could feel the strength of his shoulders as he raised her a little and brought her to his mouth. Oh God.

  His tongue found her, seeking, licking, delving between the folds of her newly-cleansed flesh. Driving her arousal higher with each touch, he too teased and suckled her, unhesitatingly finding that little bud of sensation that brought a soft cry of delight bursting from her throat.

  “Yes…Prioshka, so beautiful…” murmured Luk. Or was it Mat?

  She didn’t know. It could have been both.

  All she knew was that something was building within her, something bubbling up deep from her loins that threatened to swamp her with sensations unlike any she’d ever experienced.

  All throughout her marriage, she’d enjoyed the sexual act, but this…this was beyond her experience.

  No one had ever loved her like this before.

  Her thighs tightened around Mat’s head as Luk bent to her breast, each man an artist, intent upon creating magic with his tongue.

  And goodness me, it’s working.

  Priscilla’s breath rasped in her lungs.

  “Let it go, Prioshka…let it go…”

  Someone was telling her to do something. What? Who?

  “Relax sweetheart. Relax…”

  How could she relax? When a volcano was about to erupt inside her and turn her world upside down?

  “Come for us, love, come for us…”

  Yes.

  That she could do.

  With a scream of delight, Priscilla let it happen.

  Waves of pleasure swamped her and she held Luk’s head tight to her breast as her legs pulled Mat’s face even closer to her clit. She could feel the spasms as they rocked her, taking her breath away and sending her muscles into rigid mounds of shuddering sensation.

  The water splashed around them as she rode out the internal storm, gasping for air and losing herself for what seemed like hours in a vortex of physical chaos.

  And slowly, exhaustedly, Priscilla came back to earth.

  *~~*~~*

  They sat around the fire, letting the dying flames flicker over their faces.

  Luk smiled as he looked at Prioshka. No—Priscilla. Damn. He couldn’t think of her as anything but Prioshka now, especially remembering the way her whole body had flushed with her heat as she came.

  Mat was smiling too.

  Neither man had reached his own climax in the water, but that was irrelevant. It would happen. They all knew it. And it was this knowledge that made Luk smile.

  “You liked the meal?” Mat’s question was casual, and his pose even more so.

  They’d tugged on their breeches but little else, and now sprawled comfortably on blankets, leaning against the wheels of the caravan.

  “Oh yes,” she answered. “And everything else too.”

  There it was. The color rising and falling on her cheeks with her thoughts. So honest, this woman.

  “Tell us your story, Prioshka,” urged Luk. He had a deep need to know her. Really know her. To find out what lay behind the soft curves and wide smile. What thoughts were tumbling beneath her mass of shiny brown hair. How she had come to be who she was, and what had driven her into this forest.

  “Please, Prioshka?”

  Luk smothered a grin at Mat’s pleading tone. Like two children begging for a fairy tale, they urged her to bare herself. To spread her life before them.

  She smiled. “Very well.” She glanced at them. “But I warn you, ‘t’is not exciting at all. Quite boring, in fact.”

  Luk gazed at her. “You would never bore us, love.”

  Prioshka snorted. “Right. Take one simple country vicar’s daughter. Educate her, marry her to a local farmer, give her a few local children to teach. Take away her husband, kill him on some stupid battlefield in Europe, and then turn her out to find her own way…not the most exciting of tales, is it?”

  Mat’s hand tugged on a wayward lock of her hair. “Go on, sweetheart.”

  She sighed. “I became a governess. Since I liked to read, enjoyed teaching children, and can speak several languages…” She slanted a grin at them. “Not Hungarian…”

  Luk laughed. “Yet.”

  She blushed. “Yes, well…where was I? Oh yes…I became a governess. My first position was acceptable. Difficult, yes, since a governess is in an odd position in an English household. She’s not a part of the family, nor a part of the ‘belowstairs’ community. It could be…”

  “Lonely?” Mat’s voice spoke the word trembling on Luk’s lips.

  “Yes. Unquestionably lonely. But…” She shrugged. “Survivable. Unlike my latest position.”

  “Ah yes. The huntsmen.” Luk’s mouth curled in distaste.

  “Who were they, Prioshka?” Mat’s question was harsh.

  “Just men.” Her tone was flat, expressionless. “A house party where the wine had flown too freely, and the women, apparently, not freely enough. They considered the governess…fair game.”

  “And you, naturally, did not.”

  “I certainly did not. I am not that kind of woman…” She paused. And blushed.

  “No you’re not.” Luk reached out for her hand and held it tight. “You are a woman who needs loving. Not raping.”

  Mat was already holding her other hand. “Luk’s right, Prioshka. Loving a woman is a totally different thing to what those animals had in mind.”

  She thought about that for a moment, silent beneath their gazes. Then she squared her shoulders. “You’re right. There is a difference. And I must, in all honesty, confess something.”

  The men waited.

  “I enjoyed what we did…in the stream. I enjoyed it—a lot.” There was a defiance to her tone that brought smiles to the faces of b
oth Mat and Luk.

  “So did we.” Mat’s grin gleamed in the firelight.

  “Don’t doubt that,” added Luk.

  She sucked in a breath. “Look, I’ve been married. I’ve experienced what happens between a man and a woman. And I can’t help but think that you two…that is…that it didn’t happen for you?”

  There was the color again, flushing brightly now as the glow of the fire matched the glow in her cheeks.

  “Ah, Prioshka…” Luk stroked her fingers between his. “Pleasure comes in many shapes and forms. The pleasure of watching a woman reach her peak beneath our touch…well, that is a satisfaction in and of itself.”

  “And as for us? There’s time yet…” Mat’s voice was husky, and Luk felt his cock swell beneath his breeches. There was indeed time. But it had better be soon.

  She sighed, whether in anticipation or concern, Luk couldn’t tell. He hoped it was the former.

  “Well, enough about me. I’d much rather hear about you two. How you came to be traveling through this forest? How long you’ve known each other?”

  Luk and Mat shared a quick glance.

  “But…we’re brothers,” stammered Mat.

  Prioshka smiled. “Indeed you are. But not blood brothers, I’m thinking. Your brotherhood is deeper by far.”

  The men sat, stunned. How had she known?

  “Tell me, please?” She fidgeted around and settled herself more comfortably, still holding onto a hand of each of them. “’T’is your turn to tell me a story.”

  Chapter Three

  And they did.

  In the quiet of an English forest, dark now, and lit only by the embers of their fire, Mat and Luk told her a tale.

  Haltingly at first, and then with more confidence, they bared their past. Priscilla wondered if anyone had heard this story the way she did. Listening more for what was not said than what was.

  She sat quietly as they told of meeting in a Hungarian orphanage, lost, hungry and sharing their food. Of taking the name of their town as their own, scavenging from the streets when there was no other alternative, and sleeping beside the steps of the great Cathedral, as if to seek shelter from God himself.

  She held their hands tight as they told her how they’d fled Eger, only to fall prey to the “Turk”.

  Here was something, she realized, as both their hands flexed beneath her fingers at the mention of his name.

  They described themselves as his servants, and prepared to move on, but she stopped them. “You were more than servants to this man, weren’t you?”

  There was silence for a moment, as two pairs of brown eyes stared into the fire.

  “Yes,” said Luk.

  “The Turk…he was a trader. A provider of commodities to those who needed them.” Mat’s voice was harsh.

  Priscilla swallowed, once again intuitively reading what had been left unsaid. “And you…you two were—provided?”

  “When necessary. Yes.” Luk’s words came out as a pained grunt.

  “That explains a lot,” she said, thinking the words to herself, but speaking them aloud.

  “What?” asked Mat roughly.

  Priscilla paused, looking for the right words to express what she’d discovered. “It explains why you two are…as you are. So close. So in tune with each other. And so comfortable…together.”

  Luk blinked. “I don’t understand.”

  She gripped their hands tighter. “When young lives are threatened, by whatever horrors befall them, they instinctively seek something…anything…to hold on to, to trust, and to love. It’s human nature.” She glanced at the two men who were staring at her intently.

  “You two found each other and hung on to each other. You were each other’s touchstone, if you will, someone who was there, always there, and could understand, since you were both experiencing the same things.”

  They nodded in unison.

  “So now I understand. How you two can seem to share a thought. How you two can also share…a woman. There is no competition between you, just a profound trust.” She blushed a little. “And an extraordinary love.”

  Mat made as if to speak, but she continued, determined to finish her thought. “It’s a love that goes beyond anything physical. It’s a love born of fear and desperation and nurtured by selflessness and respect. I admire you for it. I’m amazed that you’ve survived, and overwhelmed by what you must have gone through together.”

  She raised both their hands to her lips and dropped a light kiss on their knuckles. “And I’m proud to know you.”

  Once again silence fell, and Priscilla listened, almost believing she could hear their hearts beating on either side of her.

  Luk tugged his hand away. “I need my music.” His voice was cracking.

  Mat also pulled his hand away, and gulped.

  Priscilla tried to ignore the sparkle of tears that glittered in their eyes as they swept around the small clearing. But her own heart was full.

  Full of emotions, of desires, of needs…and full of these two men, who had their own needs. She wanted to help them. To cherish them. To give them something that perhaps they’d not known.

  To give them all the love she had bottled up inside her. A love that had tried to find an outlet with her husband, and then with the children she’d tutored. But had slowly withered as her attempts had met with failure after failure. Nobody, it seemed, had needed what Priscilla had to offer.

  Until now.

  A sound jerked her from her thoughts, and the plaintive chords of a violin rolled softly through the night.

  Another one echoed the tune, and within moments, each man was playing—in harmony, in counterpoint, but always together. Just like their lives, their music was intertwined, haunting and beautiful, yet with an undercurrent of sadness and desolation.

  It brought the glitter of tears to her own eyes, and she dashed them away, fearing to miss a note of the wild Gypsy melodies that buried themselves in her soul.

  Finally, they stopped, lowering their bows and looking at her.

  “Oh my. So wonderful…” she breathed. “But so sad. Will you not try something more cheerful? Perhaps something English? I sing a little…”

  She knew her cheeks were coloring up again, damn them, but was ready to lift this introspective mood.

  Mat’s lips softened and he glanced at Luk. “As Prioshka wishes…”

  *~~*~~*

  It was a simple country tune, one of the first English melodies they’d learned, but it sprang from Mat’s bow with ease. Luk was right there with him.

  And Prioshka was smiling.

  Mat’s heart smiled too. They’d found a rare treasure in the forest…a woman who seemed to be as attuned to them as they were to each other.

  “Summer is a’comin’ in…”

  Her voice rang out over their playing, rich and true and shocking Mat to his core. He glanced at Luk, seeing his eyes widen in surprise.

  Prioshka could sing.

  This wasn’t the polite voice heard over teacups at a musical soiree. It wasn’t the carefully schooled sound of a girl trained to the classics. It was the pure liquid emotion of a woman whose vocal chords were her instrument.

  Her range was astounding, and not a tremor marked her passage from the lower register to the upper notes of her song.

  She sang from her heart.

  Mat and Luk responded. They played from their hearts too.

  And as the hours passed, they taught her their songs. Some in Hungarian, making her laugh, and others in English. In return, she hummed her favorite melodies, clapping her hands with pleasure as they picked up the tune and improvised their own versions.

  Their music filled the night, appreciated by none but the startled creatures out hunting for a meal. Performing in a natural concert hall where the ceiling was carpeted with stars and the walls non-existent, three hearts met in a rare blend of music and joy.

  It was seductive, passionate, and it left all three breathless when they finally stopped, the last
notes echoing into the darkness.

  “Prioshka,” breathed Mat, panting slightly. “Such a voice. Such a wonderful voice…”

  She blushed. “I loved to sing in my father’s church.”

  “The Lord must have loved to hear you,” said Luk, laying his bow and his violin back into its case.

  “Thank you.” She ran her hands down over her robe self-consciously. “I was told I was too loud.”

  Mat snorted. “Only by those who didn’t appreciate such beauty, I’ll warrant.”

  She glanced at him, an odd expression crossing her face. “Mat, I have no illusions. The word ‘beauty’ is not used in connection with me. Ever.”

  Mat stared at her. She genuinely believed what she was saying. She certainly didn’t fit the mold of conventional loveliness, true, given her curvaceously rounded body, her lack of inches, and her overly generous mouth. Her hair was a cluster of simple brown curls, her eyes a matching plain brown, and there was nothing to mark her as anything more than “average”. Unless one looked into her heart.

  Mat looked into her heart.

  And felt his own turn over. He held out his hand to her.

  “Prioshka. Come. Let us show you how wrong you are.”

  Luk came up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. He understood.

  “Beauty comes in many shapes and forms, love,” said Luk softly. He dropped a kiss on her neck, and Mat watched as her nipples hardened beneath her robe. “We find yours to be beyond anything we’ve ever seen.”

  Mat closed the distance between them as she reached out to take his hand. “It’s a beauty that shines, sweetheart.” He stroked her cheek as Luk nibbled upwards to her ear. “A beauty from within. And we see it. We see you.”

  “Can you see us, Prioshka?” Luk whispered the words low, but Mat heard them. He followed them up with a gentle touch of his lips to hers.

  He pressed himself to her breasts and felt her heart pounding.

  “Can you be with us, Prioshka? Can you open your heart and find a place for two wandering Gypsies?”

  He felt the breath she took as she stood so close between them. “You are already there.”

  Mat’s cock hardened rapidly at her words. She knew what he’d asked, what he and Luk intended. And she had accepted.